Stop Locking Me Out!
by ZaraCalico
Summary: Duo and Heero are finding themselves constantly at odds in their relationship. Is the Honeymoon Period just over, or is there something more serious going on? Deals with adult situations; not your normal 'broken relationship' fic. DuoxHeero, QuatrexTrowa.
1. It Comes to Blows

My ramblings -

_Yes, a second story at the same time as my other one, which I plan to be longer, but we'll see. Nothing much to ramble about. It's DuoxHeero, Heero's first person perspective (this may change each chapter but other characters will be in third person) and this first chapter involves some violence and swearing, but nothing too over the top. This idea came out of the blue and I know where it's going...but I don't know how long for._

_Also, it will deal with more adult themes later, including sex. _

_Enjoy!_

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><p><span>Stop Locking Me Out!<span>

**Chapter 1 - It Comes to Blows**

I had been banging at the door for nearly ten minutes. It doesn't sound long, but try it - try not bruising your hand against the door, try not praying it will swing open, try just hoping your boyfriend will actually open the door.

The neighbors were starting to stare a bit by then. It wasn't like it was the middle of the night; it was nearly 2pm, but it was the weekend, so there were more people around then usual. I cleared my throat and looked away from the elderly couple who lived next door to us, who came shuffling out on the presence of going to the local shop, when I knew in reality they were trying to get an eyeful of the two 'queers' next door having an argument.

As if we were so different from a straight couple. We didn't needed to be reminded it of our sexuality every day with the stares and whispers - how different we were, apparently, from everyone else. Duo was the worst for flaunting our lifestyle, but I think he did it because it pissed other people off and he felt like they needed it rubbed in their faces.

That was part of what the argument had been about. Duo had come stumbling in 3am, nearly 12 previous, after I had been up all night worrying, unable to settle to sleep, to read, to do anything to relax. My boyfriend had been covered in glitter and a top that showed off his stomach. His hair was spilling out of the braid, which showed how little he cared at that moment, and there was a bit of vomit on the hem of his short vest.

I yelled at him, instantly. I told him we had phones for a reason - that he didn't even leave a note, knowing he was leaving before I came home from work, and I didn't know where he had been. I remembered screaming that the war had only been over for 6 months - a fraction of people were still pissed, and kidnapping a Gundam Wing pilot wasn't out of the question, especially one with a braid that went down to the back of his knees. Glitter or not, dressed up or not, Duo was obvious in who he was, and he didn't care.

He yelled back, that he shouldn't HAVE to leave a note. It was his right as much as mine to leave the house - I didn't always tell him if I was leaving late or going to work early. My job was far more risky than his, anyway - working in a mechanics' shop didn't exactly make him a target, but being a Preventer did. Ex-pilot or not, plenty of people were just as annoyed with Preventers. Where was his note, where was his text? Never there, maybe at the start, maybe when we started trying this all out. We were young and stupid, he said. Maybe it was all a mistake, he said.

That was when it came to blows. Stumbling around in the kitchen, the space too small for either of us to really fight the other the way they had been trained, and Duo drunk to boot - he had managed to punch my face, the crimson-purple on my cheek becoming obvious in the light of day, and I had punched his nose, which had bled all over the kitchen floor. Bruises were one thing, but as soon as I saw blood I stopped and grabbed a pile of kitchen roll and tried to press it against his nose. He pushed me away and held it there himself, glaring at me before storming upstairs.

This wasn't our first argument. According to Quatre, who I often consulted when it came to my relationship with Duo, it was normal to fight, especially after what he called the 'Honeymoon Period', which I guessed for me and Duo had abruptly ended after around 3 months, when he had discovered 'Revenge', the gay club around ten minutes walk from our house. It may have been sooner, it may have been nothing to do with the club - where I suspected he had been that evening - but all of our fights seemed to have taken place at night, after he got back from there.

I sighed and went into the living room, digging under the sofa to retrieve the familiar two pillows and my blanket. Hey, I had slept in much, much worse places than on a sofa, which was pretty much a luxury, but sleep wasn't coming easy with so much on my mind. I flipped on the TV and turned the volume low, finding myself staring at one of those programs that tried to sell drunks and insomniacs nothing of real value.

I must have fallen asleep, because I was woken by a rough shove to the shoulder. I blinked away my confusion, finding the living room flooded with sunlight. Duo had done the shoving, of course. He looked angry, still, and his nose looked awful - purple and swollen, with bruises cupping under each eye. Normally, in the morning, he would wake me from the sofa with a more gentle stroking, with apologies and promises that we'd never fight again, as long as I promised not to fight too, and of course I agreed and I was just as tender and sorry.

But this morning, it was different.

He sat on the coffee table, a habit he knew I hated, but now wasn't the time for such minor things. He stared at me, long and hard, and for a second he looked like he was reconsidering such anger as the TV still quietly played behind him. He probably saw the bruise on my cheek, the bed hair he professed his love for, and the tired rings under my own eyes. But then he seemed to steel himself.

"...Trowa and Quatre are coming over later. You're not invited," he said, bluntly. I frowned, and tried to find a source of time, but failed. "...What time is it...now, I mean?" I croaked, tiredly. "Nine. It's nine now. They're here at ten. You're out by half nine." He said, simply, standing and grabbing the remote to turn the TV off. "I have to go sort out the kitchen. I've already explained what happened over the phone, but I don't want Quatre seeing blood all over the place and a huge mess. Go get dressed. Or don't, I don't care. Just turn the sofa back into the goddamn sofa." He headed through to the kitchen and I stood, confused as anything.

I wasn't surprised he had spoken to Quatre, but I was surprised Quatre didn't suggest that me and Duo didn't meet with him and Trowa in a neutral location. We had before, around four or five times. Maybe that was Quatre's limit. Maybe he was going to convince Duo to leave me. I didn't like the idea of them all being in my - our - house without me being there; it felt like a plot against me. But maybe Quatre (or even Trowa) had something to say that would help Duo. I didn't know. How could I know? All I knew was that I wanted him to be happy, again, and if that meant me being out of his life, then so be it.

I carefully put away all the stuff that made the couch a bed and ran a hand across it, fluffed the cushions so it looked inviting for when they got there. Then I went to to the kitchen, though I stood in the doorway, watching Duo scrub the blood. "...I should be doing that," I said, stepping forward. Duo tensed and shook his head. "You should be getting dressed and leaving. The guys have a lunch appointment at 1.30 so you can come back at two. Now go." He commanded, though he didn't look up from the scrubbing.

I went upstairs and, by habit, straightened out our bed. Duo never did it, rolling out alone or with me - messy was his nature. That was part of the reason I was surprised he hadn't taken advantage of me offering to clean, but that must have been a sign he was really, really pissed at me.

I changed into a khaki green t-shirt and a pair of jeans before I grabbed my brown leather coat Duo had gotten me for Christmas, just after the war, just before we had gotten together properly; officially. The musky, old smell always reminded me of the excitement of those days, but I tried to ignore it for now and focus instead on it being a functional piece of clothing. Just to keep me warm. No emotions, just something to keep me warm and to keep me from being naked. Functionality.

I put on my trainers and headed downstairs, pausing at the doorway. "I'll...be back at 1.45, Duo. ...I love you." I added, as an afterthought.

No reply. Nothing. Just the scent of bleach and the TV back on some sitcom that Duo liked to watch.

Now I was back at the door, and just knocking, over and over. There was nothing. I wondered if Duo had gone out. I had only discovered the bastard had taken my house key from my jacket pocket well after I had left - he clearly didn't want me getting back in before he was done with whatever he was doing. But it felt like there should be some answer.

What if there had been some accident? Nothing to do with our ex-pilot status, just a normal accident - he could have slipped on the wet floor, with his phone on the counter, he wouldn't have been able to answer that or the door; he could be unconscious! I pulled out my own phone, ready to phone the emergency services and try and shoulder down the heavy weight door I had insisted on getting installed before we moved in, when the door suddenly opened.

It wasn't Duo. It was Quatre.

He looked up at me shyly, quietly. His eyes were just that aquamarine blue they had always been, his hair a little blonder (a couple of months in the Arabian sun would do that) and he was basically the same old same. Even the small, somewhat hesitant smile he gave me spoke of the fear he had always had of me (he had confessed to it during some drunken birthday party) but I soon became distracted in looking over his shoulder.

"Is Duo here?" I asked quickly. Maybe someone 'normal' would have at least tried to exchange pleasantries, but Quatre wasn't used to my behaviour by now in that regard, though I was getting better at what he called 'social skills'.

"Uh, not right now. It's just me. Him and Trowa went for a walk. He said...when you came back you were allowed in. Sorry I took a while to open the door, I was just tidying."

I rolled my eyes. Nice of Duo to decide to allow me into the house we both had bought. And typical of Quatre to find himself a guest in someone else's home and take it upon himself to clean. Maybe Duo hadn't done that great a job on the blood spill after all.

Quatre held the door open for me as I went in, and then closed it behind me. It shut reassuringly tight, and I heard him turn the lock then deadbolt it, probably fearing my reaction if he neglected to complete those elements of safety.

Before I could speak again, or sit, or even take off my coat, Quatre was the one talking once more -

"...Heero, we've...got something to ...discuss," he said, quietly, his voice taking on a serious tone I rarely heard from him since the war.

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><p>To be continued<p> 


	2. Alien

My Ramblings -

_Thanks all of you that have read or even looked at my chapter so far! I know it's easy to dismiss as one of many stories where the relationships don't work outside of war, but trust me, this is a slightly different flavour._

_Okay, so this is where the metaphorical shit hits the metaphorical fan. There's no swearing (apart from just there) and no violence/blood. But this chapter, and those on from this, are about very adult subjects so if you don't feel like you can handle them, please find another fiction. There's a place for everyone with every taste and interest in this community!_

_So sit back and enjoy, as best you can._

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><p><span>Stop Locking Me Out!<span>

**Chapter 2 - Alien **

I felt like an alien in my own home.

Quatre had insisted I sat in the lounge the second I got in. It felt so weird just then that I didn't even take my coat off - I still never took my coat off in other peoples' homes, I still stayed close to the exit. I wondered if I was going to lose that. I guess if a sudden change in my own home meant I kept the reassuring jacket on - then no, I wasn't something I was going to shake anytime soon. I knew all the exits and way outs and how to escape if there was a fire - literally, or one of words or - worse - blows - but then I reminded myself I still didn't have my keys. Quatre could have locked the door behind him purposefully because he was about to give me bad news; I never ran or hid like Duo, but I could be much worse in my reactions - much more confrontational. After all, the two of them - Duo and Trowa - couldn't have been walking far away from here, it wouldn't be hard to find them and -

And then what? If Trowa had even let me get close, and that guy was a good match for my abilities with circus tricks thrown in - what was I going to do? Punch him again, for leaving me? That was something I never did, something that made us both stop and shake with fear for just a moment, before the fight continued. Really, I wanted to throw myself onto my knees and apologise. If Quatre was going to relay from Duo what I thought he was going to relay, I was - quite frankly - terrified, and I would do anything to get out of it. Anything to get him back.

I couldn't sit for still for long and I was quick on my feet, going into the kitchen, looking at the rusty-dull patch on the floor where Duo had poorly washed it. I would have to go go over it again - he teased me for it, but I had stain remover for everything, including blood. Up until now, we had never had to use the little sachet of blood remover, and I found myself staring at the stain even as Quatre spoke. "Heero, I really think it would be a good idea if you sat down. You look a bit pale." Did I? I didn't feel unwell. I put a hand up to my face - I didn't feel hot, either. Quatre took my hand gently. "I don't mean..like that." He explained, softly. Oh. He must have meant in my brain, or maybe by shock - not that there was anything shocking me, yet. I was just preparing himself like the doctors had always taught me to do - shutting down parts of myself so I didn't have to feel what Quatre would surely say.

I didn't go and sat down but watched him prepare two herbal teas, one camomile and one mint. Both calming; neither I particularly liked nor disliked. Duo hated herbal teas. He called them 'hippy crap' or 'mumbo jumbo' even when I tried to give him the literature early on in the relationship that made Duo laugh and made me realize, sadly, that I really didn't know how to cope with a relationship, and I did really only know how to explain stuff in numbers and graphs with black and white proof. Duo still liked that coffee we had found during the war, cheap and cheerful, and the gut-chruning smell entered our bedroom every morning with plenty of sugar and cream.I was disgusted by the smell but as long as Duo bought me a mint cup of tea up too, I was more than happy to kiss those sugary-sweet lips.

This had been at the beginning, of course. When neither of us had work to go to and hold above each others' head like some sort of game. When Duo wouldn't stalk in with me getting dressed, only holding his stinking coffee, even though he didn't have to be up for hours; when I wouldn't creep in with just my drink, even though I knew the stirrings of the other, and I knew he wouldn't be able to smell his precious coffee.

It was a small thing, but the death of a relationship is a small thing, It's rarely a car crash, rarely a familiar explosion, a self-destruction - it just...ends.

Quatre caught my arm gently and gestured to the remaining cup. Chamomile. That was better. I didn't want to associate my breakfast tea with the news of the death of our relationship. Quatre herded me back into the lounge and sat down, knowing in my infinite and ingrained politeness that I would sit too, which I did, in on the other side of the sofa, that sagged with familiarity and comfortably.

"I fucked up this time, Quatre." I said, softly. "I know I shouldn't have yelled...we're both having a hard time settling, and I need to work on going out with him too... There's noting wrong with going out as a couple, right?" I flashed Quatre a small smile. Quatre had told me, after all, that once a month Trowa and Quatre went out together. It helped Trowa's restlessness, he explained, and it wasn't such a big deal.

Quatre continued to look grim; he didn't abruptly spark up and try to make out it would really all be okay.

"Duo doesn't want to break up with you, Heero."

My heart, which had been prepared to break up into a thousand pieces just then, didn't. Instead, it started beating again, and I think I even felt colour go to my cheeks.

"Then why does...what does he want from me, Quatre? I'll give him anything, everything, he just needs to say!" I gripped the hot cup so tightly I swore I was getting blisters, but it was nothing like the pain that came next.

"Heero...when Duo went to the doctors' the other day for a routine physical, they...found the start of HIV."

Then my heart really, metaphorically, did stop.

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><p>To be continued<p> 


	3. What the Movies Say

My ramblings -

_**Okay kiddos, this one gets a little more vivid with the descriptions of sex. So just a warning, it's no where near as bad as it could be, but there are certainly elements of it being rather descriptive. There's also some swearing and some mention of blood and other bodily fluids.**_

_Apart from that, it's just Duo and Trowa having a lovely walk in the park (=_

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><p><span>Stop Locking Me Out!<span>

**Chapter 3 - What the Movies Say**

"...I couldn't believe when the doctor said...what he said," Duo said, softly, walking through the Autumnal park, the leaves crunching under his neon-coloured trainers. Trowa had always found Duo's way of life hard to understand - he was always dressed like he was ready to go to some sort of rave, but he had Heero, a faithful boyfriend waiting at home.

Maybe that was because Trowa and Heero had a...time, together, during the war. Intimate time, nothing serious, nothing but relief from the fact they were horny teenage boys, having times alone together in the safehouse. There seemed to be a weird period of time where Duo, Quatre and Wufei were all on various missions, with Trowa and Heero in whatever safehouse, awaiting their return.

Trowa bowed his head, pushing the wave of hair out of his face and chewing his lip. No-one knew about those quiet intimate moments but the two of them. So Trowa was finding this talk particularly difficult, and still thought it would be better if Quatre was here; but he hadn't been able to explain to his lover why this walk with Duo would be tricky.

Then again, him and Heero alone in the house - his face flushed. Fuck, was he really thinking that? That...he would be having such a horrible discussion for one of his best friends but all the time thinking about his cock, the times they had spend together, hot and heavy in a shared bed, trying out everything as if they had invented it. Trowa taught Heero how to jack off (a mercenary had taught Trowa when he was much too young, and it was much too rough) and Heero taught Trowa how to give head as if his mouth were made of velvet. Trowa didn't want to know where Heero had learnt that.

It was lucky that Duo thought he was the silent type, because he had been quiet for far too long now, far too long for a normal conversation, but not a conversation between the two ex-pilots, especially about something so sensitive.

"...I can understand that."

No, no he couldn't. He couldn't understand being told that all that fucking about with boys in toilets in clubs without a rubber had lead to HIV. Duo had said 'the start of HIV', but how did you measure it? Trowa wasn't sure, but it didn't seem like cancer; not something that could be levels. You either had HIV, or you didn't. Then, you either had HIV or AIDs. That was Trowa's level of understanding.

Once, Quatre had made him watch an old musical called 'RENT', which he understood from Quatre's excited chattering that it was better on Broadway, but the film was okay. A lot of the characters in that had HIV or AIDs, but they seemed to get it more from drug addiction. He turned his head slightly, and checked Duo's arms. No marks, of course not. He wasn't an addict. They would have noticed. Heero would have killed him for it.

But someone in 'RENT' died. He was a crossdresser, and Trowa admitted to Quatre he was beautiful, and that he liked crossdressers. That lead to some more...exciting times in the bedroom, at least for a couple of months. All Trowa could think now was about the guy - Angel, he thought he was called; it had been a few years - dying, and how terrible it looked even in a musical.

He was in hospital; he was shaking; he couldn't drink by himself; slowly he got stick thin; then he was barely concious and his friends were painting his nails, because he always had painted nails. And then he died, and there was the funeral scene, and Quatre cried and said that was the gay scene in the 1980s and 1990s; people lost their friends, their partners, and it had taken years of education for people to learn what to do, what not to do. And Trowa had held his smaller lover then, and been glad too that the few friends they had on the gay scene knew what they were doing, and most of them had steady, clean partners.

And now he was with Duo, trying to understand why he'd want to cheat on Heero, and why he'd want to take the risk? Did he have a death wish? Was nearly dying in the war not enough - now he wanted to die some scrawny kid, barely having time to live?

Duo walked on in silence. There was none of that combative behaviour, defensive language that Trowa normally encountered if he said something out of place to the shorter ma. And saying he understood - that was certainly out of place.

"...I...I am sorry. I didn't mean I understand. I don't. I can't imagine getting the news. I can't imagine how you feel."

Duo, who had also had his head bowed, one hand absently playing with his braid, looked up, looking surprised - maybe at the apology, he wasn't sure. "I couldn't imagine either, man. When...I started getting breathless going up hills, I figured I just had to stop smoking." He gave a little smirk and withdrew a packet of Lucky Strikes from his pocket, offering one to Trowa - who refused, but wasn't unknown to smoke these days - before taking his own and lighting up.

"So I guess I really went to get advice about how to stop smoking a pack a day, and decided to get a wellness check at the same time... The doctor practically insisted, what with the piloting history and all. Though I suspect he just wanted to be able to say he knew the workings of one of the pilots who normally avoided doctors like the plague. ...Pun not intended." Another one of Duo's famous smirks around the cigarette, and then it fell slowly.

"I guess...he stopped caring to see if there was some alien way I had survived the war when he saw...what's it called? My T Cells, or something like that. Then he did a bunch of other tests without saying a word and what do you know... HIV. There's legions on my lungs, that's why breathing sucks sometimes. Then he prescribed this...AZT stuff, and a bunch of other crap. There's so many, at so many different times I've had to set alarms and reminders on my phone," Duo shrugged and gave a humourless laugh.

"It's my fault, y'know. I've never done drugs, hell, the doctors before the war put me off any sort of drugs - well, apart from caffeine and nicotine - so I know how I got it. Just...not who from."

Trowa wasn't sure he wanted to hear the seedy details. He knew about the mess of sex, especially unplanned sex, and Duo had already confided in Quatre about his cheating - about toilet cubicles, holes in walls, alleyways - explaining skinned knees and a bleeding ass with off-handed comments he couldn't believe Heero did believe.

"...I'd like to say if I could find who it was, I'd ring their neck, but...I was the one who was drunk, I was the one who left the door open and said 'come on in' without question and just wiped myself clean without a thought, even if it hurt like hell."

'Hurt like hell' - just like Heero had said self-detonation did. Maybe there were different levels of Hell, like Dante's Inferno, spiralling in pain from exploding to allowing someone to bareback you raw.

Trowa shook his head quietly. "We all make mistakes, Duo." He was trying to channel what Quatre would say, even though he had no idea how the conversation with Heero was going. "And, before you say it, I know this isn't a small one. It isn't. There's no cure, just treatment. But letting Heero know, even if you can't tell him yourself, will help you remember what to take, when."

Duo's face paled at the thought of Heero being told, right then, about the discovery. "Are you kidding? He's not going to stick around, Tro. Who wants a sick boyfriend who's just going to get worse and worse until they..." He drew a finger across his neck to indicate someone dying.

Trowa sighed. "HIV isn't a death sentence anymore. It's...a lifelong condition." If he sounded like he was regurgitating a booklet, that was because he had read one before coming along with Quatre, who had looked up things online. Neither knew how much they had to say, what they had to explain, what to expect.

Duo just took a deep breath and shook his head. "If I were him - I'd run and never look back. ...But I suppose for now, we should go back home. Quatre's sure to have told Heero by now, and it's starting to get dark. I don't want to keep you guys, and I'm sure...we've got a lot to discuss in private."

Trowa nodded, and they followed the curved path back towards the house Heero and Duo had picked together; their 'forever' home.

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><p>To be continued<p> 


	4. Karma, You Bitch

My ramblings-

_Another day, another chapter! I hope everyone had a nice Christmas, or anything else you may celebrate. I haven't been in the mood to write a Christmas GW fic even as one off, because there's so much turmoil in both the fics I'm currently writing, and I just can't cut myself off creatively and realise that there can be a universe with happy little pilots celebrating Christmas together, even though they Quatre could totally be sitting on Trowa's shoulders to reach the top of a Christmas tree whilst Duo tries to wrap Wufei's present (a katana) and Heero tries the strange pie known as 'mincemeat' for the first time, with the obviously logic explosion at the fact there is no meat in it at all. _

_**For both my fics, I am still desperately looking for a beta/proof reader. I do make mistakes and mostly they can be overlooked but occasionally they take people out of the story. I correct them as soon as I realise, but if anyone wanted to help, I would happily take you up on it (: **_

_**Warnings - Men loving men, yo. Also, some fairly vivid sexual descriptions in this chapter, from early on, so just be aware of that. Minor swearing sprinkled in and obviously sexual language. This whole chapter is Heero's POV and starts with him thinking back to his wartime relationship with Trowa. And no, I haven't decided if Duo/Quatre know about this previous, physical-love only relationship. **_

Stop Locking Me Out!

**Chapter 4 - Karma, You Bitch. **

I remember the first time I found out about HIV.

It had been Trowa, who had told me. When we found each other all alone in a couple of safe houses a couple of times, and we found our bodies reacting to each other as if we were two puzzle pieces, meant to fit together as one.

I guess my education in the areas of love and sex had been fairly limited, because Trowa - yes, Trowa - had started laughing at the look on my face the first time he showed me a condom. It seemed so dramatically unsexy after all the building up, the groping, the kisses and the nips at the skin, both of us doing whatever felt the most natural, whilst always having our ears open for enemies - or someone coming back early for a mission.

He was hard and I was nearly there, gently stroking myself like he had taught me before. "Wait a second," he murmured, his voice low and husky in a tone I think only me and Quatre have ever heard before. He went over to his kitbag and dug around, bringing out a strange, flat packet. I raised an eyebrow.

"...What the hell is that?"

Maybe it was something he was going to use as makeshift alarm in case the guys came in when we were otherwise involved, or maybe it was a new lube I hadn't seen before - because we had used lube; we had played around before, this was just the first time going all the way. For us together, for me - but not for Trowa. But his is not my story to tell.

Trowa had the strangest look on his face and for a moment I couldn't figure it out. Had he heard or sensed something I couldn't, did we need to be wiggling desperately into our clothes? Then I realised I had seen the look before, just not on Trowa - a smile. A small one, at first, then it became gradually larger until he was laughing.

I went from curious to just annoyed, and grunted at him. "Burton. Just answer the question, you're acting like Duo would." I was somewhat concious that thinking about Duo, just saying his name, suddenly made me harder, and tried to disguise my sudden reaction by resuming stroking myself.

"I'm sorry, Heero. I truly am. I just never thought I'd see the day when Heero Yuy didn't know what something was." He sounded honestly sorry, though he was still smiling. I shrugged a little. "Dr. J felt education on sexual intercourse was unneeded. He told me that sex could be used as a weapon, but only those weak used or fell for it, so I didn't need to know about it."

Trowa knew as much from our first few shaky tries, when I didn't even know how to pleasure myself - though I had learnt a technique I got to use on him that quiet afternoon - and he had never been rude about it. And I didn't feel he meant to this time, either. We were just stuck in some weird world where most guys our age knew everything about this sex thing, even if they weren't having any, whereas we knew how to dissemble a wide variety of guns, self-destruct, and plant explosives. Until after the war and during my relationship with Duo, our expertise in some areas and naivety in others hadn't stuck me as so bizarre - but it really was.

So me and Trowa sat on the bed, even though we were both hard and hot and ready to go, and all we did for a long time was speak. Or, more appropriately, all that happened was I asked questions about this very unattractive piece of rubber (which he had by then got out of the packaging) and he answered them. He told me that sure, sex was great, but there were loads of diseases you could get, and neither of us truly knew what the doctors had injected us with, so it wasn't worth the risk for either of us. I think the more likely excuse was that Trowa didn't know what he could have had from his rather unsavoury past as a mercenary, but we didn't want to speak about that.

So that was when I learnt all about HIV and AIDs. How it used to be a lot worse and that we were getting closer to a cure, but it could still kill you, and it was a horrible death too. Trowa said, with a straight face, that he would rather be overwhelmed by a bunch of Leos whilst Heavyarms still had bullets and die that way than die of AIDs. The talk, though essential for me, had rather killed our mood, though next time we were alone together, we were both on the same page and not thinking that sex could kill us.

But now I was thinking it. Now it was all I was thinking. That Duo, that stupid fuck, was going to die from having unprotected sex. And I knew he knew about HIV - when our first time had come up, so had talk of using condoms, which I normally insisted upon but...

...But then I thought we were both clean. We both had medicals around 3 months after the end of the war, including sexual health screening, and we both came back clean. That night, we swore our love and devotion to each other, I remember Duo saying - "You, and only you. Why would I even want, let alone need, anyone else?" And from then on, it seemed a stupid, anti-climatic experience to use condoms, so we just didn't.

"Lying bastard!"

Quatre jumped from his position on the sofa. I hadn't spoken in a good ten minutes since I heard the news, just sipped at my drink and tried to think how to react in a way that showed how I felt, how it was, because keeping it all locked inside was going to tear me apart.

"Not...not you," I clarified, although I know I didn't have to. Why would Quatre lie? Then again, why would Duo lie? Wasn't his stupid war motto 'I may run, I may hide, but I never tell a lie'? Was that for the wartime Duo only, was peacetime Duo a different creature who lied and fucked his way around town?

"...Quatre, you...you and Duo talk almost every day," I stared down at my somewhat cold tea, not able to look at him properly. "Did...does he know who gave it to him? I'm assuming it's 'who', right, he's not started doing heroin or something equally stupid, right?" I was talking in that way I had only started doing after the war - clipped tones, sharp teeth, too many questions, repeating my words. But Quatre, to give him his dues, did answer.

"...No, he doesn't know," Quatre said, softly. "He... He said that he let things get too far at the club and now everyone knows his face and what he...does for fun there. And no, he doesn't do heroin, but maybe, um, you should talk to him about his alcohol and drug intake. I-I try to, but he brushes me off, I don't think I'm the most effective person and I'm worried he's-"

"Worried he's what, Quatre? Gone off the deep end? Because we both know he has. We both know he drinks way too much and he does whatever drugs he feels like, whenever he feels like it; you can see it in his eyes. And I'd be fine, I'd be happy to talk to him about that if it wasn't for the goddamn elephant in the room which is the fact that the man I love has HIV, and he may have given it to me for all I know!"

I don't know if there's a god. But I know there's karma, and karma's a bitch - because that rant was when Trowa and Duo both came in through the front door.


End file.
